


The Legen of Zelda: Fall of the Gods

by Master_Ian



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10093145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_Ian/pseuds/Master_Ian
Summary: Twenty years after being banished into the wastes of Hyrule, the survivors of the Gerudo tribe are led by their chief Ganondorf and his son, Link. After finding an ancient power in the desert, they exact revenge on Hylian Royal Family, and depose the king. However, Ganondorf is soon possessed by the very power he sought to control, and now begins to remake Hyrule in his own twisted image. Now exiled by his father, Link must journey through Hyrule in hopes of finding the Triforce of Courage, the only thing strong enough to defeat what his father has become.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers,
> 
> This is my first fanfic, and I do hope that you enjoy it. This is going to be a rather long story, and while I don't know how regularly I'll update, I do intend on finishing it. 
> 
> If you have any tips, critiques, or maybe you just want to say 'hi,' I'd really very much appreciate it if you'd leave a comment down below!
> 
> Either way, thank you, and please enjoy my take on this incredibly storied series: "The Legend of Zelda: Fall of the Gods."
> 
> Respectfully,  
> Master Ian

The dry wind blew through the arid desert, picking up sand and dust that stung the skin and burnt the eyes. The heat during the day was nearly unbearable and though the evening came on, gentling the terrible heat that plagued the day, Ganondorf knew that soon the night would come and the frigid gales would come upon him and his tribe once again, as it always did.

He sat alone, having found a nice place on which to perch where he could oversee his people, the small band of Gerudo that he had taken with him on his travels. Among them were some, but not all of the best warriors in the tribe. He watched as they made camp, setting up the large, durable tent that would house them and their great steeds. They had dug a large pit in the middle, where a great fire was built, and they had begun to cook their dinner: a large desert boar. Leevers were cooked there too, only after having their water harvested from their innards.

He turned his attention away from the camp, and turned towards the castle in the distance. Even here in the wastes of the land, he could see it: the stronghold of his enemy, where live the blasted King Daphnes, his enemy. His thoughts turned dark, as he remembered the betrayal and the Night of Fire. He shivered. Even now, as a grown man, as the chief of his people, that one childhood memory survived and lingered. There had been a prophecy, apparently, some vague notion told to the Hylian Royal Family by one of their seers of a threat to their sovereignty, and so without provocation they had attacked and killed all but a few survivors, who were driven into the barren hellscape. Among those who were slaughtered was his father, Chief Dragmire. Daphnes took care of that himself. And so he, just at the cusp of manhood, a mere eighteen years old took up his father's crown, had sworn vengeance, and lead the survivors, few though they were, as well as he could.

And so, they had dwelt in there in the badlands for a score of years, banished for a crime that they had never committed, never intended to commit.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by a familiar call.

"Father!"

Ganondorf turned around to find his son, Link running towards him. A young man, ruddy and tough in his complexion, with weatherbeaten skin turned a solid tan through his lifetime in the desert. He had never known the grass or the woods or a river, just the sand and that terrible wind. He was half-Hylian, strangely enough. The son of Ganondorf's wife, a member of the lower nobility. She had wasted away a year into their exile. Link was all that remained of her.

He stopped at a respectful distance, a customary distance, one that all of the Gerudo chieftain line had learned: respect to the elders above all else.

"Come my good son, my loyal scout, what news have you of the unknown wastes?"

He approached closer now. The noble respect was still there, but the curtains that veiled the familiarity between the two had been lifted. He removed his hood and his protective mask.

"I went out farther into the wastes, as you ordered; It is strange and wondrous out there. Sights, that, though I beheld with mine own eyes, I could not believe littered the ground. The old maps lead us rightly. We are near that old hub of the ancients."

"That is wonderful! Excellent, my dear child! Tell me more."

"We must tread carefully, dear father. The place is surrounded by a torrent, on that I can only assume is magic in nature. We should only bring a few people with us, the Poes wander in there, dead spirits of a dead nation."

A chill went up Ganondorf's spine at the mention of the Poes, the old ghosts of the past who often led unsuspecting travelers to their deaths, to have them take their place as cursed beings until they, too, found someone to take their place.

"And after that?"

"There are ruins of a great city, of a great people half buried in the sand. Large monuments and statues to and of gods and beings long since forgotten in the annals of history. Old building and technologies -- machines -- defunct and useless and dead as the people themselves with dust in their cracks... And yet, there remains, seemingly untouched by time or weather or the elements or whatever plague destroyed its builders, a temple in the center of it all. Large weapons and the skeletons of soldiers and... beasts that I do not know stay there frozen, like sentries to the ground. Whatever they are, I felt the presence of an unseen force. Like some great demon was keeping watch over my every movement, and in the temple itself, I felt such a fear, that even I did not brave it, lest, I felt, I risk some damnation greater than that which awaits the cursed King who killed our people."

Ganondorf mulled this over, tugging gently at his copper beard.

"Would you go back there?"

"Not without you, at least, and maybe the choicest of our band. Something great and terrible lurks there, though I know not what."

The chief paused for a moment, considering still that which he had heard. The old maps his father had left him told of some great and godly power that awaited them, hidden in some secluded part of the great desert. He looked down at his camp, once again, and thought of what they had gone through. What they had braved. He thought of the greater part of the tribe, in general. He looked at his son, who had lived his whole life out in this horrid scab of the earth. He knew his responsibility. He knew what he owed them.

"My son, are you sure you would be willing to guide us through the storm and to the temple?"

"Yes, my father."

"Very well, then. Go down into the camp, and select seven of our best warriors, the ones you believe most able to brave the storm and enter the old citadel. Tell three-quarters of the rest to head back to camp on the morrow and tell the others to stay here to await our return. We leave at sunup."

"Yes, father."

Link turned to leave.

"Ah, Link."

"Yes, sire?"

"I am proud of you. I am honored to have you as a son. You do not deserve this life, and yet you handle it with a grace that I can barely know. But know this, we will claim a better life for ourselves, and we will lead our people to greatness once again. You will help build it, and you will inherit it, and your children after you, and their children after them, and on and on, as the gods see fit."

"Yes, father, and thank you."

Link then did something that was wholly unexpected and done slightly awkwardly: he hugged his father, embracing him with a loving affection that he had so rarely seen out of the young man, entrenched in tradition. He then reeled back slightly embarrassed by what he had done.

"F-forgive me, father. That was uncalled for."

But Ganondorf merely smiled at his son, giving a look of happiness and pride to the young man.

"It is nothing, child. Am I not your parent? Are you not my son? Tradition or no, we are family, and love is never uncalled for."

Link beamed at him, and then, putting on his hood and his mask, went down to join the camp and give out his father's orders.

Ganondorf looked over the horizon, to the setting sun and to Hyrule castle. Tomorrow, they would find the key, the ability to take back their place in the world. Soon, he would make up for the twenty lost years of suffering.

When the sun had set completely, he went down to join his people.


End file.
